


To Be Falling

by xSebasChanx



Series: The Demon [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angel Castiel, Demon Castiel, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, inspired by "Demon" by Lermontov, it's not as bad as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSebasChanx/pseuds/xSebasChanx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, Castiel. Look at this beautiful planet our Father created for us to love and look after,” one of his brothers once told him. He kept silent as a seed of doubt implanted in his mind at those words.</p><p>Love.</p><p>Most days he swore he understood what love is, just by watching his kin’s reactions to the world. He saw it when he managed to get a glance of their eyes at the sight of a newborn, or heard it when they spoke words of stupor at a volcano erupting somewhere in the depth of the Earth. To him, everything was slowly turning grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I read "Demon" by Lermontov for an exam at university, and ended up writing this a while ago. This is the first part of what I intended to be a series, not very long, but I don't know yet if there will be just one more part or two or three. Part 1 is completely inspired by the poem, whereas the following will be original work by me.  
> In all honesty, though... It's half as bad as what it sounds like by looking at the warnings. Give it a shot and tell me what you think!!  
> Kudos, bookmarks and especially comments are highly appreciated! :)

**1  
**

 

Since the day he was brought to existence, he had known that something rooted deep inside his core was wrong. He looked down and saw the Earth, blue and green and yellow, dotted with white puffy insubstantial objects that floated up above, rendering portions of grounds momentarily unreachable by sight. However, he could see everything if he focused hard enough.

 

He kept watch as the very first living thing inhaled the first breath of all that was created, and only then he found that he was never able to breathe. He had seen it grow and mate, reproduce and multiply, becoming, in that exact moment, very akin to the Father that gave it life in the first place. Then he had admired everything He had done; the world He had created.

 

He silently peered with his brothers and sisters as that form of life developed into various and inherently unique species. He was impressed at the sight of dinosaurs, interested by the birth of eagles, and marveled as he observed humanity so slowly and oh so rapidly unfold.

 

He liked it, and there laid the problem.

 

“Look, Castiel. Look at this beautiful planet our Father created for us to love and look after,” one of his brothers once told him. He kept silent as a seed of doubt implanted in his mind at those words.

 

 _Love_.

 

Most days he swore he understood what love is, just by watching his kin’s reactions to the world. He saw it when he managed to get a glance of their eyes at the sight of a newborn, or heard it when they spoke words of stupor at a volcano erupting somewhere in the depth of the Earth. To him, everything was slowly turning grey. Many times he wondered if it was everyone’s fate to become unattached, but the more he felt the appeal subside, the more he knew that it was something that wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

At first panic rose in him, and he kept nodding and faking interest in the monotone occurrences that kept repeating themselves on the planet he had been created to watch on and, at some extent, protect. He intently tried to care and be as full of admiration as his brothers and sisters were, but at some point the only emotion that emerged was boredom, and it washed everything away.

 

He was tired of faking interest in all that was created, and he was tired of standing still where he was, where he had started _being_ , where he was brought to this existence that couldn’t compel him to breathe. He then began to question himself, imagining what it would be like to have a body and being able to touch, and smell, and taste, and take, and mate, and be alive.

 

He left Heaven, rocketing down as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. He was caught by brothers he had never met before, and answers were required from him.

 

He told the truth - the purest act he knew he had ever done - and he was punished for it.

 

“Love is what you are; is what you were made for. Heaven is a place of peace, and peace only comes from love. You are broken. There’s no love or delight in you. No peace. Therefore, here is not a place for you to be,” it was sentenced. “Hereon, you are condemned to sin and perdition. You are an angel no more, Castiel. You will live the rest of eternity as a demon.”

 

In that moment, part of him was concerned. He feared because the future had suddenly become something he wasn’t aware of. In front of him was nothing but a question mark with no certain way of reading. But then he was casted out of Heaven and saw black, and he wasn’t able to think anymore, withdrawn as he was into a thick, oppressing fog of sleep.

 

When he woke up he barely even realized he had come to full consciousness. Everything was dark as he looked up, and something was touching him. He felt, finally. He felt something against him. Right there and then, the first thing he could remember, he learned how breeze feels like against a body. _His_ body. The body he now owned.

 

He carefully sat and in doing so he could feel some branches and dirt, possibly little rocks, digging on his legs and low back. He had human form and he was unsure on how to take it. He tried to balance himself and stand. It was reasonably easy and stumbled onwards, every move coming natural to his senses. He went through fields of crop under the moonlight until he reached a little village, ignoring how ticklish and unpleasant his naked feet stomped on the grass. The place was quiet and deserted, the only sound was that of the forest and its inhabitants which he had left behind. Every sensation was welcomed, as it was as new and beautiful as watching the men making a fire and sitting down around it for the first time in human history. Only, now, it was real.

 

He stopped in the middle of the deserted street as realization hit him.

 

 _This_ , was real.

 

 _This_ wasn’t joy conveyed to him through someone else’s life. He was inside that life, now. He was part of that complex plane of existence that he was used to observe from an endless distance and _he_ was real.

 

His eyes shot down to his hands and he flexed them, attentively studying the way the fingers closed, crinkling at the knots. He thought it enchanting how, when he bended the hand downward, bottom part of the arm facing his head, he could see the way the nerves shifted beneath the skin.

 

Driven by sheer thirst of knowledge and amazed as he was, he proceeded on peering at the whole rest of himself. He looked at his abs and touched them. His hands kept roaming over his body until everything was sorted out. Some parts of it were more sensible than others, he noted, and he was left dumbstruck.

 

Nothing was how he had imagined and even if for only a second, he believed it was all too much to take.

 

Fear seeped through, so he smiled and started moving, sure that everything was going to be as perfect as it never was.

 

If only he could ever learn how to breathe.

 

 

 

**2**

 

Many years had passed and Castiel, the demon, had gone through an improbable amount of events. By following his urgent desire for newfound experiences, he had been dealing with every kind of immoral act.

 

He had slayed the throats of many, worthy and unworthy of such treatment, and he had stolen treasures to those who were entitled and not all the same. To his eyes none of them made any difference at all. He didn’t care if the woman’s curves he was pestering with kisses was married or the man he was beating up like a bag had children. It didn’t matter.

 

Witnessing the way they reacted to every circumstance he put them in was what he was interested in.

 

Even though the world offered an endless amount of diverse stimuli to dive in and rejoice, Castiel was no usual being. The dreaded time inevitably came, when the colors of everything began to cave in once more, and the boredom took reign all over again.

 

He couldn’t find the excitement in anything, no matter how far he went to the seven seas and how high he climbed to the tallest mountains. There was no drill in fighting with someone, innocent or not that they were.

 

Numbness took over and the days followed each other in a slow drag that he had long forgotten.

 

However, it wasn’t long before something he had never done came to his mind. He decided that he needed to love, and once he mastered in the art of it, love would be forever.

 

 

**3**

 

As soon as he saw him, Castiel knew he was the one.

 

He made himself invisible and approached the man who was talking with a taller guy with long hair. He stood there and studied his every move, taking in the way his jaw flexed and set strong as he discussed of matters still unknown to the demon. Castiel wondered what his name was, and if it would reflect the beautiful eyes that shone emerald in the strong rays of sun, forcing their way through the branches of the trees.

 

It was June and the weather was becoming hotter by the day. It was obvious by the way the man kept tugging at his shirt that it was nearing unsustainable unpleasantness to be outside around noon. The guys were seeking repair from the direct stream of light, sitting under tall trees sparse all over the communal park.

 

Castiel got a bit closer, just enough so that he was at earshot.

 

He listened to them talk on end about irrelevant, mundane things and he was nonplussed. Bored, as usual, he kept noticing the way the man’s light brown hair perched up. They looked spiky from where he stood, and he felt an urge to somehow pull on them. To take it and the man with it. Even then he was fully aware that having his way with the human was not what he was there for. Sex absolutely wasn’t unknown territory to the demon.

 

“Can you believe it, man? In a couple of days you’ll be married, rings and all!”

 

Castiel’s interest flared up at that and he glued eyes to the bigger man.

 

“Yeah, unbelievable right?” the target-guy smiled, skin crinkling up at the side of his eyes as he looked down at his laps in an intimate gesture. “All these years and I’ve never thought that the day would actually come. But here I am!”

 

Then came a moment of silence that seared upon the two men as they sat quietly side by side. Although he wasn’t human, Castiel was no oblivious to human’s behavior and common sense. He had observed and lived so much, that he perfectly understood that these two persons had shared a lot through their miserably short span of a lifetime. He concluded that they were probably brothers or very good friends, and both friendship and brotherhood rarely came in such a strong bond as the one he was witnessing right now, albeit he couldn’t tell how deep it actually was.

 

“Look, Dean. I need you to know this,” the man – Dean - set eyes on the taller one and Castiel could see how everything In his body tensed up with focus on what the other man was about to tell him. Everything suggested what a big share of importance Dean put on every word the man spoke, like every fiber of his body depended on them. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known and- She’s a great girl. Anna… I believe she’s a good match and that you’ll be happy together- I- I mean, you are happy. I see it and- yeah. I mean it. If you’re happy, then I’m happy, too.”

 

Castiel unconsciously retracted at that, inching his head to the side at the affectionate remark. Dean didn’t seem to fare better either, looking at the man as if he had grown two heads. His eyes were wide open and with his fingers he kept playing with the jeans he was wearing, unnervingly.

 

“I-,” Dean stopped and swallowed, his countenance visibly softening as he did so. “Thank you, Sammy.”

 

Dean turned to face away and for a moment his eyes interlocked with the demon’s. Castiel knew better than to think that he might have seen him, the man simply couldn’t, but a sheer sparkle of a kind ran through his spine. Castiel sprinted away from the bench where the two men, brothers – friends, were resting, falling into a peaceful silence.

 

He had work to do.

 

 

**4**

 

He had found her, at last.

 

It didn’t take long for the hell spawn to locate a human. They were too distinct in their smell – or, stink. He rarely used help like this, but he was running short on time and he definitely didn’t mind exploiting some dumb demon of a low level.

 

Castiel spied on Anna through the windows and smiled wolfishly. She was in the kitchen, setting food up to fix something for supper. She had no idea what was about to happen to her, and she probably will never even realize what hit her.

 

He looked at the demons standing behind him and nodded.

 

In a matter of seconds they were with the girl, in that kitchen. Castiel observed.

 

There was a scream and then her body fell behind the counter as her neck bent in unnatural ways. He couldn’t see her anymore but he could definitely smell the strong odor of blood, his senses so sharp that he could easily pick up on it.

 

It was inebriating, but even more so was what he knew was about to come for him.

 

 

**5**

 

 

It hadn’t even been an hour and Dean was striving to the entrance door of Anna’s home. The gravelly path crunched beneath his boots.

 

Castiel watched him from afar, hidden behind some bushes, impatiently waiting for the univocal outcome that might ever derive from any bloodshed. Dean was carrying several bags on him, different sizes but all of them fully stuffed and seemingly heavy - if the way he was uncoordinatedly moving forward was any indication.

 

When the man reached the doorstep he stopped and called out to his loved one, trying to peer through the window to the left. Castiel knew that no one would be answering his call. Not anymore.

 

There was nobody to open the door for him and welcome him in. No young lady to kiss and no lips to smile against.

 

It could have been a warm, perfect night before wedding, but now, it simply never was.

 

The time when Dean will be his was coming, and the demon felt contentment advancing and fighting to win the tediousness.

 

“Anna!” he heard the man shout, worry now evident in his voice even from a distance.

 

Dean dropped the bags and fished the keys from his pockets, fumbling to find the lock. When the door opened, he stormed inside, chanting her name as a prayer.

 

The demon closed his eyes.

 

He knew exactly when Dean found her.

 

Castiel reveled in the sharp intake of breath and the sudden increasing beating of his heart. He brought his hand to his chest and felt nothing underneath, so he pretended that the fastening heartbeat was all his.

 

In a certain way, it was.

 

All his.

 

He heard Dean’s incoherent cry. Right then, the demon looked as the man fell to his knees where the lifeless body laid, behind the counter on the kitchen floor. He saw him holding her spent body close to him, caressing her cheek gently as if he could still hurt her. Silent tears and irregular sobs cutting the merciless cascade of despair that sliced through his mind.

 

It took a while for Dean to call for help, dialing on the phone with trembling, blood soaked hands.

 

He whispered on the line and couldn’t even end the call before the device was slipping through his fingers. He buried his face in her hair, and emitted a screeching sound that never failed to make Castiel’s body shake with accomplishment.

 

He finally left the spot he had occupied for most part of the evening and entered the house. He approached Dean, perfectly unseen, and crouched at his side.

 

The demon wasted no time on assessing the way the woman’s neck was twisted, revealing white bone. Blood was spilling over the cut, flow no more all that insistent, considering how long the corpse had had to run dry.

 

He stared at Dean, instead. This flawless creature at the lowest of its time.

 

His eyes were puffed red as more tears came tumbling down, wetting and rendering his cheeks shiny. All over them, a myriad of freckles dotted his evened out skin.

 

Castiel wanted to touch, again.

 

Those lips, shaking at the weight of pain, so unattended and unwanted, were mouthing sinful things to the demon. It was like Dean was speaking a language he hadn’t realized he knew. Only, Castiel understood perfectly fine.

 

The hair had lost its perfect comb throughout that day so full of events, and now ran unruly. Locks were glued to his forehead , covered in sweat.

 

Castiel reached out to them.

 

He softly pressed the tips of his fingers to Dean’s head and moved the hair backwards, slowly. A feather touch.

 

If Dean felt it, Castiel had no clue.

 

It was impossible to discern a flinch among his interminable body spasms.

 

“I love you,” Dean quietly murmured. “I love you so much.”

 

The man squeezed his eyes shut and rocked forward, hiding his face in the dead woman’s mop of hair, tightening his grip on her. There it was again, that high pitching sound, accompanied by more sobs and hiccups.

 

Castiel sighed, getting tired of this pitiful show quickly.

 

“She can’t hear you,” he coldly stated. “She’s fucking dead.”

 

Dean violently sobbed, his breaths coming in and out so harshly and broken that it could probably be heard by the confining neighborhood. Castiel thought for a second that the man had heard his voice but, rationally, it was wishful thinking.

 

When he was hidden, he couldn’t be heard.

 

He would have to wait for Dean to fall asleep and meet him in his dreams. A direct approach was too risky, especially with Dean in this state of mind. He could lash out on him if he presented himself right in that moment. He didn’t want to ruin every chance he had to love this man, and have his love back.

 

He had chosen him, and Castiel always gets what he wants.

 

“Don’t leave me,” the man said in a whimper.

 

People came rushing in the kitchen, carrying a limb screaming Dean to another room so that they could take care of the crime scene.

 

And Castiel did just that.

 

 

**6**

 

Sammy, the guy that Castiel had first seen Dean with, joined them a few minutes later. He hugged Dean as soon as he found him sitting desperate on the couch of the living room.

 

There were policemen interviewing him, questioning him about the time he got in, whether he saw or heard something unusual, if there was someone who might have wanted to hurt Anna for some reason, if she had any enemies or bold former lovers. They went on and on, not caring about the broken man they were requiring all this information from.

 

As he looked up at Sammy, Dean broke into tears. The words he had told him earlier that day on the bench hitting him at full force.

 

Castiel kept silent, smoldering at the two standing so close.

 

The time passed and the cops left them alone to recover some decency.

 

 

**7**

 

Castiel had followed the two guys to the apartment that was Dean’s home. He had discovered that Sammy was an affectionate name for Sam, and he was Dean’s only, younger brother.

 

When they entered the place they were as silent as they had been during the whole way there. Dean immediately went to his room and locked himself in, ignoring Sam’s faint protests. It was late and they both looked extremely proved. They obviously were.

 

Castiel stood next to Dean’s bed the whole night, listening to his nearly vain attempt to cry himself to sleep. Even when everything seemed quite and the few cars running down the street were the only sound, the demon was well aware of the tears that persisted on clouding Dean’s eyes. He kept looking numbingly out the window for hours, Castiel did not understand the purpose of doing so. Human’s eyes were bound to a poor sight that barely allowed them to see the stars, shielded by all the street lights. He pondered what the man could be looking at but the demon couldn’t find an answer.

 

Then Dean fell under, and Castiel dived into his mind.

 

Even there Dean was suffering and mourning. He was kneeling in an indefinite space and singing words aimed at Anna on a loop, letting out all of the pain and professing his love to her.

 

Disgusted as he was, Castiel finally told him what he had waited for all day. This time, Dean would hear.

 

“What you’re doing is useless.”

 

Dean tilted his head and looked up at the demon, but nothing changed in his demeanor and he went back to grieve.

 

Castiel sighed and wetted his lips. He gripped Dean’s hair, finally, and forced his head upwards, leaning down to bring his face so close that there was no way the man could divert eyes. Here in the dream his locks were so soft, and Castiel wondered how it would be like to touch them in the outer world.

 

“That is to say you need to stop,” he snarled between gritted teeth.

 

Dean’s pupils dilated and his mouth stopped speaking. The demon let the man go with no elegance, but kept his stare right where it was directed at the man, no soft feature in his countenance.

 

“Who are you?” the man barely breathed out, studying the demon’s face with his eyes.

 

Castiel smiled.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Dean swallowed as one tear finished its run on his face and dripped off his jawline. He looked quietly around before turning his attention back to Castiel.

 

“What do you want?” he murmured, his voice wet and drown with the long hours spent crying. The furrowed brows and his body’s moves suggested that he had tried to make it come off as a warning, holding a defensive stance against the stranger. But Dean was so vulnerable underneath, and Castiel felt so amazed.

 

The demon let his hand glide over Dean’s cheek, going down and down until he came to a rest at the man’s chin. He sustained it on the index finger, hand closed into a fist except for the thumb that started slowly brushing Dean’s bottom lip instead. It felt sore and dry against his digit, the skin split in the middle where the flesh flashed bright red. Dean must had been biting on it unrestingly.

 

“I’m here to help,” he answered as his eyes fixed on the movement of his finger that still caressed the man’s stubble and mouth. Dean kept frozen still and didn’t make a sound. He certainly didn’t protest, his body too tired to do anything other than let things happen.

 

His face softened and molted into a hopeful countenance. His lips curved in a sick bow, the closest to a smile they could ever get that demanding day.

 

“Did you come to make the pain go away? Can you do that?”

 

Castiel grinned, shifting his hand so that it was wiping clean one of Dean’s cheek. The man’s stare was solid, so calm and unlike the guy Castiel had been watching over that evening. He had somehow grown accustomed to the sobs and pained breaths of the man. This was fresh and unsettling in just the good way.

 

“I can.”

 

Dean’s sharp intake of breath was heard, and Castiel pushed his hand to the side of the man’s head, fingers running through his hair, and forced his head to tip gently and in a calibrated way to the left. Not once did Dean’s look falter and fall, keeping the demon always at the top of his attentions.

 

“But I won’t.”

 

His fingers tapped on Dean’s neck, inching down to where the shirt hung. They peered beneath, calmly. All the while the man had his forehead scrunched.

 

“Why?” he inquired, nothing more than sheer curiosity.

 

Castiel moved and those green eyes kept following his every move up until he was out of his view. The demon kneeled behind the man, and when he touched his shoulder, Dean almost jumped at the surprise. His whole body tensed, Castiel could feel it. Every muscle in him was contract, ready to flee or fight, but there would be no need for it.

 

Castiel leaned forward, bringing his mouth as close to the man’s ear as he could without contact.

 

He whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you, Dean.”

 

“You’re in my head. I-,” Dean’s head slightly turned facing the demon, not enough to have his cheek crash against him. “I’m dreaming. I must be.”

 

He wasn’t panicked, he was just being reasonable. His tone was placid and his body visibly relaxed, somewhat.

 

“I am.. you are.” Castiel murmured soothingly. He tenderly pulled the man against him, so that his back was lying flat against the demon’s chest. He resumed caressing his head with one hand, and started petting one arm with the other.

 

“I will walk you through it and I’ll be here with you. I’ll help _you_ make the pain go away.”

 

Dean abandoned himself to the demon’s ministrations and serenely sighed.

 

“You know,” he sleepily said under his breath. “Mom used to say that angels watched over me.”

 

Castiel’s grip tightened.

 

“Are you an angel?”

 

He was about to answer ‘no, not anymore’, but realized that Dean was unconscious in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**8**

The second night, Dean passed out before the sun had set behind the buildings.

 

Castiel had been watching him drinking alcohol stupidly the whole day. Sam had come by and Dean had flipped him off every time the younger brother had asked him to quit and talk to him. Dean wouldn’t concede and would sip another amount of booze. When Sam had stepped in and grabbed Dean’s bottle from his hands, forcing him to clean himself up, the man had dozed off on the couch not before crying a couple of tears and emitting a few incoherent sobs.

 

The demon had tried to reach him then, but apparently the alcohol’s fog that clouded Dean’s mind was way too thick to let him dive in. So, Castiel had sat on the floor next to the couch and stared right at Dean’s pain covered face the whole afternoon. He didn’t leave his side until the man woke up to find Sam asleep on the armchair beside the couch, TV on and volume turned down so that it was barely audible and produced a soft, welcoming background noise.

 

Dean stirred on the spot and pressed his fists to his eyes. He then let himself fall into the coldness of life.

 

Castiel had seen his eyes getting glassy even before a tear spilled out to lose itself in the mass of Dean’s hair.

 

Not even a day had passed from Anna’s departure, and it had already lost its beautiful blond reflection. It was dull and lacked of vitality. It wouldn’t even stand up when Dean ran a hand through it.

 

As Castiel realized this, he couldn’t help but notice how his green eyes too, aside from the usual veil of tears that covered them, looked off. And off were the deep black digs under them.

 

He was pale.

 

He looked awful.

 

He hadn’t touched alcohol after he had woken up on the couch, now occupied by Sam, and he went to sleep. His brother had decided that he would stay with him for the night even though he would have to go to work the morning after.

 

Castiel touched his mind and carefully entered it. He could feel how unstable everything was, the columns that sustained his subconscious severely wounded by hangover and grief.

 

This time, Dean was dreaming of a storm. He was standing naked on the shore, enormous waves crashing before him. Rain was pouring, so heavily that it rendered sight barely useful.

 

Without uttering a word, Castiel walked a few steps in his direction, rocks crunching under his feet. He felt something wetting them and looked down. The water had suddenly reached him, waves crashing on the ground and extending longer and longer, perpetually washing away a larger portion of the coastline.

 

Dean had his knees in the water.

 

The demon was soon next to him, and closed the space hugging him tight from behind. He felt Dean’s sigh through his body.

 

Even here, the man was shivering.

 

“I didn’t think I would dream of you again,” Dean almost shouted in order to be heard over the overpowering din of the downpour and frightening waves. “Are you going to be my next recurring nightmare?”

 

He giggled. Castiel didn’t think he’d heard right, but Dean giggled.

 

Recovering his neutral stance, Castiel gripped the man’s hips and pushed his lips flat on his shoulders, tasting the rain that smoothed his skin as it did the rock. Beneath this cold unpleasant weather, Dean was still warm and inviting to Castiel’s senses.

 

“Only if you think of me to be such a monotone trick of your mind,” he mouthed against the man’s back.

 

Dean let his head fall back to look up at the grey sky and let the rain hit his face. He closed his eyes and let the sky cry for him.

 

Castiel gently bit that piece of freckles covered field of skin that tempted his lips. He dragged his mouth upwards, circumnavigating Dean’s neck, living a trail of soft open mouthed bites. Dean surrendered to those kisses and let his head accommodate Castiel.

 

Dean lifted his hands slowly to bend over his own shoulders, and as he was about to touch Castiel’s head, he detached his lips and growled.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Dean hesitated, palms stopped, opened midair. He let his arms fall back to his sides and with them went his head, chin so close to his chest.

 

Castiel hadn’t noted the way the water had stopped growing until then. He felt it covering more and more of his legs, reaching the height of his crotch.

 

“Beating yourself up over this is not going to bring her back,” he coldly stated. When the incessant white noise of rain and entrancing smashing of waves was his only answer, he kept going. “Praying to her is not going to do that either.”

 

“What should I do, then?”

 

Castiel retracted, tipping his head to the side. Was he being serious right now?

 

“She is dead. She is not coming back. She can’t hear you,” Castiel uttered, tired of this pointless question.

 

“What. Should I do. Then,” the man repeated, raising his head and slowly turning to look at Castiel.

 

The demon took in the marvelous sight that was Dean naked, rivulets of rain forcing their way down his toned torso. He looked down and studied every inch of skin, every crest or hair, every mole and freckle. He studied it all, unashamedly.

 

At last, he focused back on Dean’s eyes. They were pointed on him, transfixing him with a soft glance of despair.

 

“Please,” the man sighed. “Tell me.”

 

“Forget and move on.”

 

Castiel wondered if among the raindrops webbing his face there were teardrops falling down. He wondered if to him the rain was a hiding spot for his cries, or a friend that shed the very same tears.

 

He forgot and grinned.

 

He felt the water rising and soon it was at his chest.

 

He spared a glance at Dean. The man had an unreadable look on his face and he was staring back. The man opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he backtracked.

 

He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He let himself be pulled under the surface.

  
Castiel watched as Dean drowned.

 

‘Just stupid’, he thought.

 

 

**9**

 

Two weeks passed.

 

Every day Dean would drink every different kind of poison until he’d pass out and wake up the day after, never before noon. He would rarely answer his phone or text back. Every day it was harder for him to stand up and put up with his daily chores. Castiel could read on his face how hard even dragging his feet to the bathroom was to the man. The tears had stopped coming at some point, but he didn’t look better. Not at all.

 

At night, it usually happened that the demon couldn’t even enter his mind due to the alcohol the man had apparently decided to kill himself with. It happened once that he could breach the fog, and there stood Dean, looking at him quickly before letting himself drown once again. Castiel watched as the sea raged and Dean’s body was dragged underneath, lost forever to the violent stream of the ocean.

 

He crossed his arms and looked at the dark sky provided by Dean’s own mind.

 

He had to do something, or else he would lose him.

 

 

**10**

“You should take care of yourse-“

 

Dean slammed the door shut in Sam’s face.

 

They had been fighting since the younger brother had stepped inside that evening. Dean had been avoiding him for over a week now, and he only went out to buy groceries and liquor. Mostly liquor.

 

He had quitted his job and simply couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Castiel was right on his toes as he slowly paced towards his bedroom, bottle of whiskey clutched tight in his hand. He stopped on the doorstep and followed the man with his eyes as he plopped down on the bed. He was wearing only a shirt and boxers as per usual these days. The beard was way too long and it perfectly portrayed the hideous state of negligence in his own regards.

 

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he started lifting the bottle to take a sip. He drank a little and sighed. “Should fuckin mind his own shitty business.”

 

The demon silently watched the shameful show displayed in front of him. Dean drank until he passed out, bottle rolling on the floor and content collecting to form a puddle on the floor.

 

Castiel decided it was time and gained power to recover a physical form. It had been so long since he had a weight and occupied actual space on earth and time.

 

He unfolded his bones and his spine cracked as he extended his arms above his head. He then proceeded on slowly moving his head in circle, eyes closed as he carefully listened to every muscle and juncture in his body shift and unfurl.

 

Focused as he was on his own body’s reactions, he hadn’t realized the shocked man’s wide eyes that were staring at him from the bed.

 

When he noticed, Castiel smiled at Dean.

 

“Well, you clearly aren’t as drunk as I thought you were,” he stated, finally satisfied with his stirring session.

 

“You- You-“, Dean stuttered as he tried to sit up on the side of the bed.

 

“Me, what?” the demon asked mockingly, advancing a few steps in Dean’s direction, hands folded in each other as he made the fingers’ bones crack.

 

“You’re here.”

 

Dean had barely managed to gain a sitting position when Castiel reached for his shoulder and pushed him down again in one swift movement. Dean quickly tried to retreat himself and rest his back against the headboard as Castiel climbed on the bed setting one knee on each side of the man.

 

As Castiel temptingly sat on his lap, Dean was literally shaking. His mind was too slow to focus and think of what to do, how to escape this mind blowing and absurd situation he found himself stuck in.

 

Castiel smiled and tilted his head, searching for Dean’s gaze.

 

“Of course I’m here. I told you so, don’t you remember?” the demon uttered. “That I’d be here with you.”

 

Dean’s eyes went wild, green so beautifully outstanding from that close as Castiel was to the man. The man finally conceded and let his stare intertwine with the demon’s, pupils drawn wide.

 

“Our first-“

 

“Our first encounter,” Castiel concluded for him.

 

“I didn’t think you were real,” Dean said, staring at him, up and down, as fast as a flicker. “I thought I had made you up”

 

His lips were dry, Castiel could see it, and they trembled as he took an intake of breath.

 

“Well, that my mind had… I thought I went all nuts.”

 

Castiel’s gaze went up unconsciously and he saw it; the hair. His hand immediately sprung forward to its own accord and fisted it without concern at all. Dean sobbed in pain as Castiel’s nails scratched the skin.

 

The demon smiled and started combing it, trying to recover a vague similarity to what it had looked like the first time he saw it that day at the park. The same day Castiel had Anna’s throat sliced by a bunch of lesser demons.

 

“Are you, then?”

 

Castiel, taken aback, looked at him with sincere stupor and confusion. His hand stopped working the hair and the hand fell on the man’s shoulder where it gripped him tightly. So tight that Dean stared at it and flinched, before looking up again and locking his gaze to Castiel’s.

 

“An angel,” the man murmured. “I asked you if you were an angel.”

 

“I’m no angel,” Castiel wasted no time in answering. “Haven’t been in a long time.”

 

Dean furrowed his brow at that.

 

“What are you?”

 

The man’s voice was so soft it was almost a relief to Castiel’s ears, but he didn’t linger on it long as his face hardened.

 

“I’m a demon.”

 

Castiel felt the body beneath him go tense all of a sudden and the grip he had on the man went tighter. His other hand went up to Dean’s face. The man visibly tried to keep him away but there was no real intention behind his actions. That, or too much alcohol flowing around in his blood.

 

“What do you want from me?!” Dean asked, panic clear in his tone, voice broken. He tried to move but Castiel kept him pinned where he was.

 

“I thought we had settled that already,” the demon uttered. “Listen to me, Dean.”

 

He caressed Dean ‘s face and the man’s eyes visibly softened, without losing an edge to them. He was afraid.

 

Castiel would have liked that, if he wasn’t afraid himself of never getting what he wanted.

 

“Please,” he murmured.

 

Dean’s pommel bobbed and that was as good as an answer to Castiel.

 

“Our Father had designed for me to be an angel,” he told him, hand softening on the man’s shoulder, fingers lightly moving in circles as with the other hand’s thumb he traced Dean’s jawline back and forth. “That’s all I was, at first.”

 

The demon shifted on the man’s lap, letting his hands travel down Dean’s arms, so calibrated, and then up again. His eyes began following those movements and Dean was captivated by the sinuous, almost unreal way Castiel’s whole body danced.

 

“But I found myself incapable of love.”

 

Castiel looked up and the black eyes took Dean’s breath away.

 

“So He had my wings cut off and banned me from Heaven. Since then, I’ve roamed the Earth as a demon.”

 

The pitch black slowly drew back, but never entirely disappeared from the demon’s orbits. The pupil was undiscernible from the dark hued halos of his eyes. The man lost himself in it. It was like something was calling out at him and it was hard to resist.

 

Castiel knew that there was some irresistible chemical element that drugged humans’ senses when they were so close to him, and it’s always worked on his favor. This time will be just the same.

 

He leaned down and pressed one hand to the man’s chest.

 

He felt his heartbeat going crazy beneath all those bones and muscles. Castiel closed his eyes and focused on the consistent drumming of Dean’s living heart. He could hear the blood pumping through his veins, hot and dense, and it sent the demon’s excitement flying, a sheer shock like a lightning going all through his body. He would have sworn that, for a moment, he had felt alive as the body he was straddling.

 

“You wondered why I’m here, what I want from you. There’s one simple answer to that.”

 

Castiel gripped on of Dean’s wrist, the man wincing in surprise, and guided his hand to his own chest. Dean let himself be maneuvered and opened his hand so that his palm could lay flat on the demon’s left pectoral. He scrunched his brows in confusion in a silent question, eyes fixed on where he was _really_ touching the demon. It was real and consistent, after all.

 

“I’ve killed, raped, lied, cheated, stolen and kidnapped; I’ve climbed the tallest mountain and sunk in the deepest ocean; I’ve ruined the lives of many and never have I apologized; I’ve taken away many loved ones to the men whose eyes I so viciously wanted to see cry; I’ve claimed countless bodies and not one’s lips I’ve ever kissed. Although I thought boundless freedom was all I’ve ever wanted, one day I realized this.”

 

Castiel’s hand covered Dean’s on his chest. He pressed strongly and caressed Dean’s fingers with his own, his eyes focused on Dean’s face to take in every little shift in his expression.

 

“Your heart,” Dean attempted to say. “It’s-“

 

“I have no heart,” the demon cut him off. “Never a heartbeat. Never a flutter,” he intertwined Dean’s fingers with his own on his chest. “I’ve always wanted to know how it feels like to have one, drumming wildly from within at every occasion.”

 

Castiel pressed his other hand on the man’s heart, comparing the feel of their two chests.

 

“I wasn’t always like this,” he stated inching forward so that his head was so close to Dean’s that he could easily track constellations among the man’s freckles. “My true form doesn’t even have a real body, one that you could touch like you’re doing right now.”

 

He slowly pressed his nose to Dean’s neck and the man’s quick intake of breath made Castiel seize up with desire.

 

“I told myself that if I tried to experience all my Father’s world have to offer, I might have been able to feel a heart.. like a phantom pain,” he gave a kiss to Dean’s neck and let go of Dean’s hand while with the other one he caressed the man’s cheek. “And now that I’ve experienced everything, there’s only one thing left for me to try.”

 

He kissed Dean’s side again and gently retracted to look the man in the eyes. He framed Dean’s head with his hands and hold him still. The man’s lips were apart and Castiel could see how close he was to have him all. One more little step and Dean would be his forever.

 

“Love,” the demon murmured, slowly inching forward, noses now brushing against each other. Dean’s lips trembled and his eyes went down to Castiel’s, his hands shot up and gripped the demon’s hips. He didn’t stop him this time, unlike the dream. “And I love you, Dean.”

 

“I-,” Dean tried to find his voice, but it wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to say.

 

“I do,” Castiel remarked. The demon’s lips gently brushed over Dean’s and they kept in contact as they slightly parted to taste the man with his tongue.

 

“With your love I might be welcomed back to Heaven, or we could stay together for all eternity. I won’t be alone anymore, since I would have learned how to love and be loved. So, I beg you, Dean. Love me back.”

 

The demon felt Dean’s lips starting to move against his and he closed his eyes. He deepened the kiss and hold the man tight to his chest.

 

It didn’t last long, but it was enough.

 

He retracted to look at the man he had decided to love and saw him lying unconscious. Castiel squeezed Dean’s shoulders and shook him uncaring, calling out his name without much vigor.

 

Dean was dead.

 

The demon brought his fingers to his lips without realizing and it dawned on him that the kiss had killed him. He looked at the man whose life he had sucked right out of with one simple touch of love, and he felt sad.

 

It was uncommon and unexpected, and it soon was washed away by fear. The fear of having no choice but to live on, alone, for all eternity.

 

He placidly stood up and untangled his limbs from Dean’s, dragging away his hand with one last caress to the man’s cheek.

 

 

**11**

 

Castiel waited there at Dean’s side for quite a long time, when suddenly he heard a flutter of wings behind him. He turned and there stood an angel, studying him with stone cold eyes.

 

“Step aside, Castiel,” Heaven’s soldier said, stoic countenance unwavering. “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

 

“You won’t have him, he’s mine,” the demon said, gaze smoldering, whole body puffed out in an offensive display. “His soul belongs to me.”

 

“You own nothing,” the angel said resolutely as he stepped forward. “I came here to take his soul to Heaven. Although, I have something for you, too.”

 

One of Castiel’s brow lifted at that, and turned slowly to keep the angel – Michael, if memory does not betray him – right in front of him, taking in his every move.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Michael reached for Dean, and as he touched the man’s chest, where a living heart was beating not even two hours earlier, everything lightened up bright. That kind of bright that Castiel hadn’t seen in centuries - since he had fallen.

 

When the white light retreated, Michael was looking straight at him, ready to fly away with Dean’s soul.

 

“Our Father has not forgotten about you, Castiel,” the angel uttered as mechanical and surgical as always. “On the contrary, I suspect He has always had a soft spot for you.”

 

Michael got closer and Castiel followed him with his eyes, not attempting a step backwards for utterly useless he knew it was.

 

“If you want to learn, our Father demands you do so.”

 

Michael’s hand reached up to touch Castiel’s head. The demon didn’t have the time to close his eyes, afraid that the angel would kill him, and everything went white.

 

But he wasn’t met with death.

 

He found himself standing in a communal park, on a unnaturally hot sunny June day. In front of him was a bench, two brothers sitting next to each other, enjoying the proximity of a wedding that would sign the beginning of a new life.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget; kudos, bookmarks and comments!! Tell me what you thought about it and if you enjoyed.. I don't bite :)


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